Slayer's Star
by Rainne
Summary: Very much post-"Chosen". Earth has recognized magic and has made contact with an alien race. A group of Slayers protect the first ambassadors to the new planet, but find no civilization is without evil.
1. Arrivals

Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with the people or things that have something to do with "Buffy." I'm not even that much of a fan. So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: I so should not be doing this. As you read you will find something to the effect of forbidden = fascinating, if you get that far. Based on this principle I have been able to write nothing for the fic I should be writing, and everything for the fic I've forbidden myself to write. Hope you like it.  
  
A/N 2: This will be an all OC fic. As you may have figured out, it takes place quite a while in the future. There also will be no hidden relations to any "Buffy" characters, or super secret destinies/prophecies. I'm so sick of those fics, seriously. Well, okay- there may be one super secret destiny/prophecy, this is a BtVS fanfic after all, but no more, I swear! Okay, sorry to slow you down.  
  
1.  
  
The girl placed her chin in her hands; her elbows braced on her knees, and continued to watch the recording. The broken glass on the kitchen floor behind her bent the sunlight in disconcerting ways. On the virtual screen, the day of the girl's birth played on.  
  
It was after the actual birth. After the joyous tears and sweaty hair, the red and gray-white baby with its bizarre umbilical cord being severed, but not after the four masked people in pale gray scrubs filed into the room and made for the basinet in which the infant had been laid. The four took their places at the four sides of the container, and began chanting low and rhythmically over the squalling infant. Silver light began to emanate from the basinet. Not before they'd gotten through half of the ancient spell, a male voice shouted, "Get them away from my daughter!"  
  
The camera spun dizzyingly and refocused on the man standing next to the hospital bed. The eight year old girl sitting on the coffee table recognized him as her father. He strode away from his wife, who had sat up in the bed, and was making for the four. The camera followed him, showing the Wiccan medics move instinctively away so that the basinet stood between them and the man bearing down on them.  
  
"I said I wouldn't allow them here!" the angry father raged.  
  
"But, Mr. Redgate," interceded the obstetrician, a rather young man with black hair and mocha skin. His voice sounded weak and immature as it did battle with the father's livid roar, "It's against the law not to allow- "  
  
"I told you before; I don't care about that stupid law. Keep those damn witches away from my baby!" He turned on the Wiccans, who cowered under his furious glare. Something told the watching girl they hadn't been too well prepared for something like this. It was usually an exciting moment; discovering whether or not your daughter is a Slayer. With a final bewildered look to the obstetrician, they fled the delivery room. The glow in the basinet diminished, and then died. The baby was quiet. The father watched them go, angry satisfaction written in the very muscles of his back. As he turned, he spotted the camera busily crafting memories, "Shut that camera off!" The virtual T-vision screen shuddered out of existence, revealing the blank, orange cream colored wall of the living room behind.  
  
The girl popped the DVD labeled "My Birth" out of the machine and into its unmarked case. Then she carefully placed the case back in its dark spot inside one of the stereos next to the desk upon which the small silver screen projector sat between vases of dried flowers. She looked over her shoulder into the kitchen, taking in the shimmering broken glass of the former vase with its living flowers strewn among the fragments. She looked at the overturned table with its warmly colored tablecloth getting damp in the water on the floor. She also let her gaze travel over the still form of the intruder who had attempted to break into the house through the patio door. She hoped vaguely she'd given him no permanent damage, though she couldn't be certain from the speed and force with which her unthinking blows had rained upon him. Wondering if she should check on him again, she fiddled with a lock of long straw-colored hair. The soothing motion stopped midway at the sound of the foyer's door opening.  
  
"Geneva!" the girl's mother called, "We're home! Come help us with the groceries, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, sweets," her father's voice rang through the hall, "We got those bagels you like!"  
  
Later, thinking on this moment would make her smile without mirth; of course the only child of rising Family Rights and Values crusader Torrance Redgate would be a Slayer.  
  
2.  
  
Surprisingly enough it was Geneva's mother, the mild, sturdy Laura Redgate, who finally convinced Torrance that Geneva would have to go to the Slayer's Academy. Amidst all the publicity the scandal of Geneva's Potential had produced like the waves of a large rock dropped into a still pond, Geneva found herself on the train out of her rural home, headed for the airport, which in turn would take her to her new home: the Slayer Academy.  
  
"You can call us every day if you want, sweetheart," Geneva's mother was telling her, though it sounded more like she was talking to herself. Geneva couldn't blame her; Laura Redgate was a simple woman. She wanted to raise her daughter, care for her husband and home, and maybe attend a fundraising gala or two if possible. She enjoyed her role as wife of the influential Torrance Redgate, and Geneva's being a Slayer had thrown her for a bit of a loop. However, she squared her shoulders and pressed on, convincing Torrance that Geneva needed to learn how to control her strength, if not join the ranks of the Slayers. The intruder had been seriously injured by their daughter, which had been a very prudent point in allowing Geneva to go to the Academy. But he had refused to accompany them to the airport; instead he sulked in his office all morning before leaving, muttering something about a convention against allowing souled vampires to teach in schools.  
  
"Your father isn't mad at you, Geneva," she continued, her voice sounding a bit hollow, "I want you to remember that." She patted her daughter's knee absently. "And you know me. I'll love you no matter what you do. Just be good, pay attention to your teachers, be nice to the other girls. They'll probably be just as homesick as you."  
  
"Okay, Mom," Geneva replied, sounding just as far-off as Laura. She had her own things to think about. After not allowing the Wiccans to test Geneva for her Slayer Potential at birth, Torrance had managed to put off the fact that there was definitely something more than human about his daughter for quite a bit. As a result, Geneva would be starting her Slayer education later than most girls.  
  
By law, all female children born were to be tested to see if they were Slayers. Those that were went home with their parents until the age of five, and then were sent to a Slayer Academy of the parents' choice, usually the closest one to home. Then, the girl was trained and educated as a Slayer until adulthood. After that, most joined the ranks of Slayers and defended the world against evil, in all its shapes and sizes and mystical abilities. Very few Slayers ever went home again, and even fewer saw her family again. Evil definitely wasn't what it used to be, but that didn't mean the life of a Slayer was much safer.  
  
It was the separation from home and family that Torrance Redgate disagreed with. The Redgates were an old family, and ever since the Merging of the world of magic with the world of technology after the Battle of Sunnydale they had been fighting to regain the old ways. They had even gone so far as to sequester themselves in the countryside, shunning most of the advancing forms of technology and certainly all kinds of magic. After finally admitting that magic existed at all, they saw themselves as martyrs to this encroaching wave of Wiccans and demons and vampires. The way they saw it, there were no demons or vampires before magic made itself known, so magic must be the cause of them. Needless to say, little Geneva could feel the culture-shock already in the gliding train car.  
  
A projector built into a panel above the car's door flickered its screen into existence, attracting Geneva's attention. The image she saw made all else fade into the distance. The message, "Breaking news from the Western capital" revolved artistically for a moment before changing again. The volume was turned off, so the girl quickly read an unseen newscaster's words at the bottom of the screen, "The Western capital was buzzing today upon the first arrival of an ambassadorial envoy of extraterrestrials. As channel thirteen has previously reported these beings first made contact with Earth five months ago with a simple message, 'Earth is ready to ascend.' The communications continued and lengthened in the past months until a date was set to meet in person..."  
  
Above the subtitles was a profile shot of a group of government officials in neat dark suits on one side, and a group of aliens on the other. The aliens weren't the archetype of short, large-headed freaks with bulbous eyes and skin a shade of nuclear fallout green. Instead, none of their party was much shorter or taller than the humans, and they seemed built in fact rather human-like themselves: two leg-like appendages, two arm-like appendages, and a head sitting on top. It was slightly difficult to make out much, as the aliens were all a midnight black color. The only variation was in the odd ripples of colored light that danced over them, hinting at the shapes of their arms and legs as they traveled. The ripples seemed arbitrary, though each one did have a constant ripple rhythmically emanating from the center of their midsection. And each of those ripples was a different color according to which alien it belonged to. Their eyes were the most easily seen feature on their black bodies, being almond- shaped and angled. The eyes were white in the center, but faded to a foggy gray and then black at the edges. Translucent eyelids flicked sideways over the surfaces every so often.  
  
An alien slightly taller than the rest, though the effect may have been caused by its instantly apparent dignity, stepped forward. Its ripples were a pale blue, like the sky after a storm. Complete silence had fallen upon both groups' populations.  
  
An official stepped up, a bespectacled young man with a short brown haircut that made his ears appear to be sticking out and a vertical gray stripe down his suit jacket that marked him as a Wiccan. He made a gesture in sign language to the alien. The newscaster was quiet, allowing the subtitles to translate the signs. "Welcome to Earth. I am Rod Polis," was the official's message.  
  
"Hello, Rod," signed the alien, its hands and arms moving languidly, as if through a slick liquid, "We receive your welcome. We extend our own welcome, as one of the higher species to another."  
  
Rod looked a little thrown by this, but continued with little pause. He invited the alien and its envoy to enter the state building in front of which the meeting was taking place. The alien accepted, and followed Rod inside. The two groups, government and extraterrestrial, also followed, blending into one large group while trying not to step on each others' toes- or feet-like appendages as the case may be.  
  
After a pregnant pause, the newscaster's subtitle reappeared, "Further communication strategies are to be discussed by the two ambassadors today, channel thirteen will be sure to stay with this momentous event in our planet's history, don't change the channel..."  
  
The projector switched off, and Geneva sat back as she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Glancing at her mother, she saw that the older woman had a shell-shocked look to her. "Well," Laura managed after a moment, "This is certainly something, isn't it? Aliens, in our own Western capital, imagine. Good thing they come in peace, huh?"  
  
Geneva nodded with eyebrows raised for emphasis. She didn't mention to her mother the sight of Torrance's surly face among the dark suits of the government officials.  
  
3.  
  
"Okay, Geneva, got everything? Of course you do. We're almost there," Laura rattled on as the pair walked across the grassy campus of the Academy. She clutched her daughter's suitcase in one hand, her daughter's forearm in the other as they marched. "Now, remember what I told you. What did I tell you?"  
  
"Listen to my teachers, be nice to the other girls, and call you if I need you."  
  
"Right, that's right. You're such a clever girl, Geneva. I'm sure you'll do fine here."  
  
Even to Geneva's young mind that didn't make much sense. How much brains could possibly be involved when fighting some monster or something? I guess I'll find out, she thought as she allowed her mother to steer her ever closer to the Academy. She tried to stamp down the butterflies in her stomach by taking stock of her new home. The Eighth Slayer Academy (Western Capital) was a conglomeration of buildings that housed and educated any new Slayer within a thousand miles. As Geneva would soon discover, the campus she walked through now was only a tiny portion of the Academy. The rest was made up of dormitories, school buildings, and, of course, gyms for the physical training of the Slayer students. Laura and Geneva, peering at the Academy map they'd received in the mail, found themselves at the door of a building much smaller than the others surrounding it. It was only two stories and couldn't have contained more than four rooms per floor. It looked more like a home than a school structure. They pushed open a door marked "Administration."  
  
Inside they found several desks arranged between islands of filing cabinets. The lights were off, allowing natural sunlight to filter in through the windows. Geneva liked the effect of the light on the potted plant's leaves on one of the filing cabinets. Geneva thought they were the room's only occupants, until she turned to see a young woman sitting at one of the desks. Her face was screwed up with concentration on what appeared to be strings of light running between her fingers, her green eyes narrowed at the space between her parallel palms. The strings of light were yellow in color, except for two bands of green and red which were traveling along the strings. Along their separate journeys they touched, and the strings disappeared. The woman growled in frustration, fisting her hands and finally blinking. It was then that she noticed the new arrivals.  
  
"Oh, hi!" she said, hurriedly standing up from the desk and weaving around cabinets to meet them, "Sorry to keep you waiting, would you believe I've been at that stupid thing all afternoon?"  
  
Geneva considered what she had seen, the woman's utterly determined expression and the irritation expressed at losing, and nodded.  
  
"Well, anyways," she went on without noticing Geneva's contribution, "I'm Vienne Serafini; I'm with the Eighth's Administration. You're the Redgates, right?"  
  
"Yes, we are," Laura responded, "I'm Laura, and this is Geneva."  
  
Vienne laughed slightly, "You don't have to tell me, I watch the news. This Redgate Slayer deal is almost as big as the aliens." She continued in a sarcastic tone, "And the Heads are just pleased as punch to have her here, you know."  
  
"We didn't want to cause any trouble," Laura began, but Vienne waved her protest away.  
  
"Hey, we take in all kinds at the Eighth. Rich, poor, Eastern, Western- if you can kill a demon, c'mon down!" She laughed a bit more before continuing, "So, let's get you settled in then."  
  
4.  
  
Vienne gave them a walking tour of the Academy on the way to dropping Geneva's things off in the dormitories. The girl wondered how long it took Vienne to memorize all the information, and then pare it down to a version suitable for nervous parents and new Slayers. Although the history of the Battle of Sunnydale and the Merge was common knowledge to most, it was news to sheltered Geneva, so she listened with interest.  
  
"After the Battle of Sunnydale it became apparent that, yes, magic and demons and evil etc. exist and that- even if they weren't on the same side- the world's nations were at least side by side when it came to fighting evil. It helped also that suddenly every nation had their very own population of newly minted Slayers to deal with. Some leaders wanted to use the Slayers as a personal army for their respective countries, but at this time many white magic leaders such as the Watchers' Council stepped in, making their presence publicly known for the first time in, well, just about ever.  
  
"It's actually quite amazing that things have worked out the way they did. Tons of things could have gone wrong with the Merge following the entrance of the Councils, but they didn't. Now, several nations have done their own merging, so much so that we've created new, all-encompassing capitals in the west, east, north, and south. We've still got a ways to go, but all that world peace talk may not have been just a lame old Ms. America pageant answer."  
  
As the history lesson continued, describing the formation of the Slayer Academies and their purpose in suppressing evil, Geneva watched her fellow Slayer students as the small group walked. In the gyms, girls seemed to be doing every kind of athletic activity imaginable. Some were running laps, others swinging on gymnastic beams, still others playing games or swimming or sparring with each other. Watching the Slayers fight entranced Geneva, even though they were only practicing. Would she really be able to do things like that? Only time would tell. In classrooms, teachers expounded on matters of the mind; geometry, grammar, the usual.  
  
"And we have special classrooms for Slayers who show mystical potential," Vienne said as they came up to another building near the classroom wing. Geneva felt Laura stiffen beside her. Though Laura had advocated Geneva's training as a Slayer her family, like her husband and his family, had opposed the Merge and as such denounced all magic. Geneva, however, had never truly understood her parents' views beyond the fact that magic was forbidden in their house. And since in any child's opinion the word forbidden is the immediate synonym of fascinating, Geneva hurried ahead to the Wiccan building of the education wing.  
  
She was vaguely disappointed to find it not much different at all from the other buildings. Separate classrooms taught separate subjects, though the subjects themselves were grounds for pause. They included things like spells, magic lore, and advanced demonic classification. The girl was brought to a wide-eyed stop at the sight of one class's activity: floating pencils up off their desks. Watching the pencils, Geneva spotted one floating at almost twice the altitude of the others, and spinning. Dropping her gaze to the pencil's pilot, Geneva saw a curly-haired girl much younger than her classmates, probably around the age of Geneva herself. She was smirking up at her pencil with narrowed green eyes, making it spin faster and faster. Feeling the watching girl's gaze, she turned her attention from the floating implement and smiled. The pencil immediately dropped, bounced off of the girl's head, and fell to the floor.  
  
"Ellen, keep your eyes on the pencil," the class's teacher scolded. The girl, Ellen, nodded in compliance, but gave Geneva a casual shrug and another smirk. Geneva smiled back before she was herded out of the building by Laura.  
  
Last on the tour were the dormitories, large rooms containing six beds, twenty rooms to a building. Each administrator had two or three rooms depending on seniority that they policed, making sure school rules were obeyed, acting as counselors for any of the girls' problems or complaints. Geneva was glad to find out that she would be placed in a dormitory with girls her own age, even if she would be starting at a lower level than them. The dormitory in question, in fact, was under the jurisdiction of Vienne herself, another surprising plus.  
  
Finally, it was time for Geneva to say goodbye to her mother. They were once again outside the Administration building, or the House as most of the Academy called it. Laura was dabbing tears away, but Geneva felt oddly at peace. She supposed she should feel sad and scared, but she didn't. In fact, a spark of excitement and anticipation was flashing deep inside her, she really wished her mother would simply go.  
  
"Remember what I told you," Laura said once more, "What did I tell you?"  
  
Geneva suppressed an eye roll, the first in her young life, "Listen to my teachers, be nice to the other girls, and call you if I need you."  
  
"Oh, sweetheart!" Laura cried and wrapped her daughter up in a tight hug. "Remember, I love you, and so does your father." Geneva tried to pat her mother's back, but her pinned arms forced her to pat Laura's sides. The woman finally let go and walked down the path, out of the Academy.  
  
"That's not bad advice," Vienne remarked as she and Geneva watched Laura leave.  
  
"I know," Geneva said, and the two re-entered the House. In later years, Geneva would wish she'd had a more meaningful parting with Laura, something to look back on with more feeling than vague sadness and reflection. But, she reasoned, she'd never been a very emotional person, especially in those days, and it could've gone worse.  
  
A/N: Yum, forbidden fic... Is it good? Is it crap? Only one way for me to find out, my friends. 


	2. New news

A/N: I've finished my editing, my friends! Let us rejoice, and be merry, and update, for Pete's sake, whoever Pete is! Wait- I know who Pete is, he's a character from another story of mine. Well then, yes, let's certainly update for Pete's sake.

1.

Ellen Serafini, known as El to anyone with any common sense, poked at the dime-sized bruise to the far left of her forehead. It had crossed her mind to be mad at the girl in the hallway for distracting her from the pencil she had been so masterfully floating, but she decided she was madder at the teacher for being so boring. Ms. Garfield was fine for getting the beginners started, but El had had just about enough. The girl in the hallway was trumped once more by El's anger towards the laws about underage Wiccans practicing magic. El had decided early on that there was far too much foolish thinking in the world and if people would just listen to _her_, a lot of time would not be wasted. Like the time spent in this class, for instance.

"Excuse me," El's salvation and sister, Vienne, had popped her head into the classroom, "Can I see El for a minute?"

Ms. Garfield acquiesced and El darted from under her suffocating blanket of boredom and joined Vienne in the hallway. "New news?" she asked.

Vienne squinted at El's bruise, "What's that?"

"Pencil dropped. What's going on?" Vienne didn't look too worried or shaken up, but El wasn't one for small talk.

"There's a new girl in your room. I want you to make her feel at home."

El immediately whined, "Can't you get one of the mentors to do it? New kids get on my nerves." Vienne didn't reply, but stood silently. El peered at her sister, "Oh no, you didn't, Vienne! You had one of your stupid dreams again, didn't you?" Her question was an accusation.

"You know, for someone who is studying magic, you're terribly narrow-minded about premonitions."

El refrained from deploying her searing speech about how most clairvoyants had been proven frauds, even among the highest powers that trusted them, in the Merge. She merely groaned expansively, "You might as well tell me what it was about, then."

Vienne's face lit up in excitement as she launched into her description of the dream, "I saw you and the girl. You were older, I think. You were fighting something-"

"Did we look cool?" El deadpanned.

"Most things are fuzzy. I've been having the dream a lot. Only you were clear for a while, until I saw her in the House. Then it was weird, like I had the dream again in a flash just looking at her. Then I knew it was her."

"Vienne, we're Slayers," El spoke slowly, as if not to a person more than twice her age, "If your big prophetic dream is about us fighting something when we're older, you are not instilling in me any greater faith in the powers of premonition."

"I think there might be another girl there too, someone I can't see yet. And I don't think you were fighting something normal, like a demon or vampire. It didn't feel like that."

"Something different- right. I'm going back to class now. Have one of the mentors look after the Pot, okay?"

Before Vienne could protest, the door to the classroom was shut and El was gone. The Administrator sighed and set off on the walk back to the House. She wished she could say El only disobeyed her since they were family, but she couldn't. Pound for pound, the young Slayer had a bigger ego than the most pompous of Big Bads. She was also one of the most gifted Slayers the Eighth Slayer Academy had ever seen, academically as well as physically. No teacher held El's favor or attention for very long. They were either too stupid or boring or "got on her nerves," meaning they tried to stand up for themselves in the scorching ray of hostility El sent every last one of them. Due to this prickly attitude, El had no friends in the school besides Vienne and precious few of the most kindly Administrators. Knowing she would die a slow and horrible death if El ever found out, Vienne had cautiously hoped throwing Geneva and her sister together under the guise of mentorship could result in a bond for both. The dream had shown no antagonism between the two as they'd fought, which also indicated to Vienne that they may hit it off. But El had made it clear; she would not accept any thinly-veiled attempt to set her up with another Slayer like a toddler in daycare. Vienne sent a quick prayer to the Goddess to see El and Geneva clear to each other, and returned to her light particle string game.

2.

El walked into her room in the dormitory wing after classes as night fell. She was wary of the new Slayer Vienne had tried to dump on her. But the only one there was the girl from the hallway. El inwardly groaned, _She must be the new Pot, and I smiled at her! Crike, why did I do that? Now_ _I_ have _to be nice to her!_ El sidled over to where the girl was emptying her suitcase into a cabinet.

At a loss as to how to begin, she blurted out, "You're the new Pot?"

Geneva whirled around, startled, "Oh, yes. I'm the new- what did you say?"

El's nervousness made her snap, "The Pot! The Potential. I know you're a Slayer already, but we call new girls Pots, short for Potentials."

"Oh, I see," Geneva said, her eyebrows jumping in understanding, "Yes, I'm the- Pot." The term didn't sound very complimentary to her.

"I'm El Serafini. You've met my sister, Vienne?" Geneva nodded. "Right. 'Night then."

El removed herself to her own bed, and Geneva let her. She'd had a tiring day among the five-year-olds learning the most basic physical Slayer skills, and then having to shift herself back to normal learning for her academic classes with her own age group. All this plus being the new girl in every class. By the end of the day she was frustrated by her physical classes and bored to tears by her academic ones. Though her physical teachers had assured her she was doing fine for a beginner, she felt like an awkward giant among the tiny, lithe five-year-olds. She was beginning to resent her father more than a little as well. How could he have done this to her? How could he have thought the problem would just go away if he hid it long enough? Geneva shuddered to think what would have happened if she had waited one more year before finally coming to the Academy. This knowledge made her grateful to be here now, and pushed her to work hard. Maybe she could catch up to her fellow eight-year-olds in the physical classes before long. Her last lucid thought as she slipped into dreams was to wonder how she and El got to this strange place, and what strange creatures they were fighting, and who they were fighting them for.

3.

Six years later

"Wake up, Geneva," El placed her hands on the mattress and jiggled it mercilessly. "You know," she said above the springs' tinkling, "Someday you're gonna get kidnapped in your sleep, and I'm not gonna do a thing to stop it."

After working out that there was no earthquake, Geneva crawled from her bed towards the bathroom.

"It has awakened!" El cried, "It lives!"

Geneva rolled her eyes and dragged a brush through her hair.

"Breakfast call was five minutes ago, creature of the blond lagoon." El flicked a fair lock off of Geneva's shoulder. Her own hair was bound away from her face as usual. She'd passed that cute little girl stage of chunky curls and had moved on to a mop of wild tresses that defied the control of everything from hair spray to magic spells done in the dead of night. Naturally, El envied Geneva's straight, blond hair as much as Geneva envied El's dark, wavy hair.

"Like they care," Geneva said as she tried to work out the bumps in her ponytail. She hated bumps.

"You're missing the important thing here, Geeves," El admonished as she tossed Geneva's wrist top to the blonde girl, who was yanking the day's clothes over her head, "I'm hungry, and so are you. You're so lucky to have me around, or you'd never eat. You'd just sleep and sleep and sleep and then you'd never be an active Slayer."

"I never asked to be an active Slayer," Geneva said, clipping on the micro-computer as the pair walked to their dormitory's cafeteria.

The cafeterias comprised one end of each of the dormitories. They had vaulted glass ceilings that curved up to connect to the roof of the building. Along the interior wall resided the buffet girls chose food from, and the rest of the area was populated by white tables with four chairs each.

"Oh sure," El countered, "Because your lifelong dream was to stay in that stupid valley for all time with the whole crazy, inbred Redgate bunch."

Geneva didn't comment. Over the years in the Academy she had become aware of her family's political standing. She didn't like it, she knew she didn't agree with it, but love for her mother and at least a vague bond to her father prevented her from vocally taking a side. So she said nothing, a course of action proved time and time again to be the best one. Besides, El did enough talking for the both of them.

"I mean, who has blond hair anymore, really? It's like a genetic impossibility," El continued.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, El," Geneva replied with a wickedly sympathetic smile.

"Oh, oh, that's nice. Slick one, mutant. How 'bout you focus that tremendous wit on the buffet, huh?" El and Geneva grabbed their food and sat down at a table. It wasn't long before they were joined by Vienne, who smiled a hello at the pair. "Why do you always smile like that when you see us?" El asked pointedly, "You'd think we were betrothed or something."

Vienne tried to rein in her proud grin. She'd thought for sure after El's first refusal to have any involvement with Geneva that they'd never be friends, but apparently her prayer to the Goddess had paid off wonderfully. The two were inseparable, at least until Geneva had to go to her physical classes in the lower levels. They were in the same classes academically; it appeared Geneva's skills in deduction and other mental processes were quite exceptional, while her physical skills stayed average. She showed no particular magical aptitude; for which her mother was quietly relieved, if Vienne's conversations with the woman were anything to go by. Overall the girl had settled in nicely with El to bolster her. Likewise she had smoothed some of El's rough personality with her calm demeanor. They were a team, whole and complimentary. Though Vienne couldn't believe that had played a part in the information she had to share with the girls.

"Is that the news?" Geneva asked, nodding to the small chip in Vienne's hand.

"Yeah, thought you might be interested." The Administrator pushed the chip into the table's drive at the base. Virtual screens flickered up in front of each of the chairs at a slanted, readable level.

"Seems they've finally done their thinking," Vienne said as Geneva and El examined the first page of headlines.

"'Visit to alien planet scheduled for 2113,'" El read, "'After first contact several years ago, politicians and scientists set a date to meet the extraterrestrials on their home planet.' Took 'em long enough, huh? I remember when they first came here. Wasn't that the same day you came to the Academy, Geeves?"

Geneva nodded as she read.

"I knew it! That's why you have all that freaky, unnatural blond hair. You're one of them! Get her, Vienne!"

"They do come in peace, you know. They're not trying to enslave us."

"Oh, right. That's what they say _now_. Just wait, as soon as we set foot on their planet in will come the warships and that'll be that."

"I love how much faith you put in our ability to protect Earth."

"Hey," Geneva interrupted the verbal sibling warfare, "It says they're taking a group of Slayers with them as protection. Like bodyguards. I wonder who'll be chosen."

"Probably the tops from the First Academies," El said, "Right, Vienne?"

The Administrator smiled coyly, "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I mean, the best of the best don't necessarily have to go to the First Academy in any region."

"What, so they'll be scouting different Academies?" El snorted, "Nice, Slayer talent agents, I like that. I hope the obstacle course isn't too hard, and the guy who checks our teeth and genitals has clean hands."

Geneva grimaced at the image of a Slayer pet show. Sometimes she felt she could easily do without her friend's alarmingly vivid imagination.

"Who says they haven't chosen already?" Vienne innocently inquired.

This caught both girls' attention. "New news, Vienne?" El wheedled with hungry eyes.

"How would I know who they picked? I'm just a lowly Administrator," Vienne said in mock irritation. It faded with her next words, "Though they do notify first relations of a Slayer picked for special duty." She ate in silence until El looked approximately like a volcano primed for eruption. Then she remarked with extreme innocence, "You didn't happen to check your mail today, right, Geneva?"

Geneva blinked and called up her mail with the touch of a few buttons on her wrist top. Among the ever-present junk mail was her mother's e-mail address. The e-mail's subject read in a bold font: CONGRATULATIONS, GENEVA!!! Raising an eyebrow, she opened the e-mail, whereupon a tiny image of her mother filled Geneva in on the extent of her pride regarding her daughter's acceptance as an ambassadorial bodyguard. As the e-mail concluded, Geneva looked up at Vienne.

"If you scroll down a ways you'll find the official letter from the Slayer/Watcher Council," the Administrator said with a proud smile. And she was proud, though she couldn't quite understand why the Council had chosen Geneva, a Slayer by all accounts as average as they come in physical terms. Vienne didn't see how Geneva's high intellect would come into play as a bodyguard.

Tucking away her disappointment, El gave her friend a warm smile, "Congrats, partner."

"Not so fast, Miss Congeniality," Vienne said, "I see you haven't checked your mail either..."

After gaping at her sister's mind-boggling evil, El pulled up her own mail before her next heartbeat. Scrolling past congratulation messages from her family, she opened the e-mail from the Slayer/Watcher Council. Her eyes got exponentially wider as she read. El spent the rest of lunch making a sound much like a door's rusty hinges, "Eeeeeeeee..."

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A/N: That chapter was fun on a bun, if I do say so myself. Anyone mind the time jump in the middle there? Sorry if you do, but I gotta get this wagon train a-movin', if you get my drift. I got _plans._ But enough about that, review please!


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